


Watching, sensing, feeling

by Nilysil



Category: Warframe
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Consentacles, Fingering, Large Insertion, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Non-canon biology, Seductive entity, Sentient fucking, Size Difference, Tentacles, Vaginal, ghosting, merged senses, organic restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilysil/pseuds/Nilysil
Summary: There’s not much an ageless sentient can do trapped in the abyssal shoals of Uranus besides pry at his favorite shadow’s activities.





	Watching, sensing, feeling

**Author's Note:**

> *Note: when referring to ‘womb’, meaning in the sentient sense. A safe place; a general location of creation.  
> -+- Kudos, comments and sharing are encouraged! -+-

The sentient can feel his shadow’s frustration.

In every loss, in every bitter victory, Hunhow can taste the hunter’s boiling rage within the trawls of battle. Their only contact, hands gripping at lend sentient edge, feels the unrelenting brutality barely restrained, the strain hammering the hunter’s systems ragged even as he draws from the sentient’s energy reserves. It’s a blessing, for his shadow, that his reserves are endless, unlimited despite his circumstances being stuck on a wretched planet.

But, the hunter, try as he must, can barely bring back any prize to show his victories. Tremendously overpowered by sheer numbers alone – even with the sentient’s gifts of vengeance. Would sending his fragments aid his shadow? Perhaps.

But his shadow yearns to find success alone.

Between his less than successful shadow. His barely capable sentient thralls.

All Hunhow can do is wait.

Trapped in the abyssal shoals of Uranus.

There, the sentient begins to grow. Once a pathetic quivering mass, a mere remnant of a cosmic body that smothered world, grows in malleable flesh and sleek metallic coat. One by one he collects his broken fragments, warriors made defunct by failed war and battle against the tenno shells. Hunhow draws them into his once empty constructed cocoon. Slowly he gains from their numbered sacrifices, guided by the desire to end his daughter’s usurpation on their kind.

Once a disappointingly simple pillar, a sentient shell barely sat at a meter tall, his physical manifestation grows. Undulating and bulbous, it eventually begins to settle in shape. A mass echoing the shape of a broad torso, arms withdrawn in singles before they grow paired, coiled against a central mass. At first a rising spine forms from a jagged spine, a crest once bent downward turns up as a slim head shape. Each time, as tenno excursions thwart his efforts, he grows, drawing off the carcasses of fallen fragments scattered among the wretched system. Despite its innards, the chitin shell retains a cocoon state, motionless and looming.

At first, when the pillar sat barely formed, his shadow paid it no mind.

But now, Stalker stares. Uncertainty breathes through him; Hunhow can feel it through their beneficial link. Hands tightly hold the sentient’s shard during their brief physical conversations. And in each instance a fog shadows their established connection, one that dissolves as Stalker leaves the undersea dwelling Hunhow resides. Hesitation, Hunhow can feel lingering along his shadow’s senses. Regarding what? Hunhow wonders, as he draws his shadow’s senses calm as he nears another wandering tenno shell.

There is only so much he can feel through their limited connection.

“A cancerous plague isn’t fell in a single strike, Shadow. Try as they might, they will be smothered, a bare smear all to mark their place.” The sentient coos against the hunter’s nape, echoes of forming immense hands guiding Stalker through another stressful fight.

Stress follows his shadow back to the sentient’s dwelling, despite Hunhow’s efforts. But, curiously enough, his shadow finds his own stress relief. Despite the sentient’s lingering presence, Stalker satisfies himself near muted from Hunhow’s senses through their link – yet his curiosity fulfills. He can hear his shadow – as muses broken by panting breathes and yearning gasps – senseless noise without context.

All it does is increase the sentient’s curiosity, surveying Stalker’s systems and nerves, accessing through their mutual link, through the route the sentient grants him energy to fight.

Stalker allows it; on the field and in the depths.

The sentient can only watch; in curiosity, confusion, perhaps? Hunhow can feel nothing that echoes the same as his shadow beside elevated senses and a general region of stimulations. A hand pressing downwards, fingers spreading and curling in haphazard rhythm. Sloppy, Hunhow contends, erratic. Nothing like the even brutal flow of battle, and yet… it intrigues the sentient as he continues to spectate Stalker’s form of stress relief. A clenching of nethers and hand, grasping at a nonexistent mouth – at least physically – with peaking noises. Within the sentient can sense tension, drawing tighter as noises are brought by hand motions.

“Shadow, what are you doing,” the sentient’s voice rumbles through Stalker’s mind – one storming in eccentric thoughts. There’s a swift response; an assaulting hand holding close between coiling legs, a brief silence, time Stalker takes to collect his thoughts.

“Your precepts, Shadow, are clouded. Unsorted; yet, you welcome them. In this place,” through their connection Hunhow feels a balling fist between his shadow’s legs adjust. He watches intently across Stalker’s nerves. “Are you feeling in despair, Shadow? Or a sense of accomplishment.” His shadow wiggles within his hide away, a shaking breath as hand motions against him once more. Not thrusting fingers, sat patient as the sentient surveys. “Are you feeling pleasure, shadow?”

“Yes,” Stalker answers with a quiver, fingers stroking down and between. Hunhow can feel the straining restraint in his shadow, a yearning nestled in his gut.

“Good,” the sentient drawls, uncovering a semblance of what may be called joy from watching Stalker’s legs coil. “Continue, shadow,” as he observes. Fingers draw over saturated flesh, spreading in yield as soft sounds leave though a held helm. They rove over brilliant cerise, moving up and against motioning flesh connecting nether lips. Gentle rubs breathe in groans; hand pressing and scooping at sensitive tension nestled between his shadow’s thighs. Strokes rove over bright lips, up and down, fingers pressing against a groinal clench. Hunhow is satisfied with watching the nerve sensation, but, sits interested from his position. Not of own pleasure, but for how it’s more effective in calming his shadow’s despair.

“Steady, Shadow. Let me feel.”

A slight noise rises from Stalker as his hand draws back, hips shifting on where he sat. “You want to feel, Hunhow?” His hand spread over his mound, fingers splitting cerise lips in slow repetition. A soft exhale seeps from Stalker as they move against him, legs twisting as whines drips from a lacking mouth. Thighs press against his stroking fingers, back arching as he fixes self-restraint. “What would you feel, exactly,” he sighs, fingers stroking at the bundling nerves that makes him gasp. Legs return to coils, pressured hand stroking between cerise lips.

“I feel you, shadow, and all you receive.” Hunhow watches as Stalker draws himself closer, shuffling and shifting, digits pressing deep beyond surface flesh. “I know you draw yourself closer to an ever-teetering edge. Motions, erratic. Senses, muddied.” The sentient’s words has an effect on his whimpering shadow, digits thrusting between cerise, a fleshy nub grasping at a hand made tense. He continues, intrigued.

“You’re close, shadow.” The sentient starts. “Tend to your desire, that feeling flesh.”

Dark fingers scoop up from clenching loins, digits splitting above and below the frilled flesh that makes Stalker’s clasping clit. The cerise grasps from where it sits perked, wrapping at stroking fingers as Stalker draws himself back. A fist holds himself steady as he groans, stroking between clit and spreading himself for sensation alone. “Ahh,” he whines, “fuck.” Noises turn half choked, fingers returning to their erratic nature of self-sensations.

As Stalker brings himself against his edge, whimpering and mewling, Hunhow glances over his shadow’s nervous response. He surveys the apparent positive sensory response of elevated heart rate, sporadic muscle contraction and motions; a self-persistent endeavor of wanton stress relief. Within the sentient can feel an intense coiling of need, a yearning of tension release brought by stroking hand at clasper and lips. Across their connection, the sentient draws astral hands, holding at his shadow’s sides. “Finish yourself, shadow,” the sentient drawls, grazing claws over the sensory plain; and Stalker shivers. “And we shall talk.”

Already in the thralls of near finish, Stalker easily coaxes himself against his hand. Thrusting fingers, body curling, stroking against his quivering clasper clit. Hips buck against his drawn final, gut clenching in each relentless roll marking climax. Feeling claws hold at Stalker’s senses, spreading as whimpers drip from a sensory mouth. Murmurs of hushed name slip as his nerves go into absolute mush. Curling fingers, saturated lips, and clasper clit, is all Stalker can feel as his legs coil with each empty thrust. Muscles quiver, holding himself still in the faint grasp of clawed hands. “Yes, Hunhow,” the hunter whimpers; intending to be a solid answer but conveying something more.

Stalker doesn’t catch it, but the sentient does.

The sentient’s claws curl up against his shadow’s chest, a faint sense with no physicality, a transfer of sense one against another. So real Stalker leans against them, catching himself with a once slickened hand with a huff. Laid back, legs spread wide as he comes down, Stalker stares down himself, clasper clit twitching in the cool air. The sense of hands withdraw as his shadow moves to collect himself, sitting up, leaning back against his arm with resettled legs.

Hunhow withdraws his sights from his shadow, drawing himself back to where his physical presence resides. He can feel his shadow’s movements among his womb, weaving through burrowed cave systems, recollected and focused with the war fashioned at Stalker’s back. Through it claws trail, brilliant light aglow as he talks. “How was it, Shadow? That self driven pleasure.”

“It’s… nice.” Stalker contends. “How much, exactly, did you feel.”

Hunhow brings the sensations to recount. “A quivering of sensation jowls, curling of legs in wretched fashion, a hand drawing, rubbing, thrusting.” The sentient can feel a nervous twitch within his shadow. “I can feel everything, shadow. But I don’t facilitate them. Would you, perhaps, enlighten me on this mortal sensation?”

Stalker is quiet, standing solemn and still.

Hunhow gives him this moment.

Stalker doesn’t respond, at least verbally. Keeping to himself until the next beheading.

 

Adrenaline hammers through Stalker’s senses, stress drawn out against a particularly annoying tenno shell. Thankfully, they’re alone, unlike the countless other attempts at dwindling their infuriating numbers. After enough times catching them behind rising pillars, he cleaves them with the sentient shard, collecting their head.

“You’re exhausted, shadow,” the sentient whispers through Stalker’s senses as he makes his return, depositing the severed head for the sentient’s recollection. It’ll be processed, cranium studied to find vulnerabilities in the annoying pests. As a part of him collect it, another tends to graze over Stalker’s nerves and thoughts, stroking at a flickering stress. “Yet, instead of rest, you wish to indulge?” Hunhow can feel his shadow nod, through neck muscles drawing helm vertical.

Intrigued, claws hold at the senses of waist, spreading down against dark hips. “Show me.”

He first strikes the sentient blade into stone, fixing it to stand propped as Stalker steps back – claws drifting from his sides. Fingers spread down between his legs, stroking at sleek deep grey against faint sensation Hunhow can collect through their foggy link. The sentient is resigned to the shard for the time being, watching as a hand pressing over a forming crease. His shadow holds himself standing, legs spreading as digits split and coax at a covering that holds his sensitives safe.

Slowly, carefully, he eases it open.

At first Stalker holds himself close, fingers stroking at cerise hidden from the sentient’s vantage point. Not close enough to touch from the tethered sword, fogged from his shadow, he rumbles, “let me see, Shadow.” A sense of claws graze at their distorted connection, “let me feel.” Stalker spreads himself, staring at the glow of the sentient shard formed-blade. A part of Hunhow, a comfortable semblance of the massive sentient. Fingers split his flesh wide, clasper clit twitching in open clenches made of yearning, a yearning out of Hunhow’s reach. He wants to see. He wants to give.

Stalker clears the connection, and a sensation of claws drift over his skin, between his legs, merging with his fingers with a shudder. There’s a clear whine, shallow as Stalker’s hand dives between his legs. His fingers, the sentient’s claws, stroke up through his cerise lips, claw ends teasing at his vulva as it follows in hand motions.

“Hunhow,” Stalker sighs.

“Yes, Shadow?” The sentient purrs at his shadow’s nape, moving an echo across a barely gasping neck. The hunter shudders, groaning as fingers spread himself again for the sentient. Faint echoes press against his lips, dipping inside as his fingers push downwards in a tease. “Remove it, Shadow. Your offending hand.”

Stalker’s fingers hold back, spreading himself without covering his flesh. In the air, his clasper clit twitches lewd as he stares down himself in baited breath. Though their connection is clear, Hunhow is still locked away from his shadow’s thoughts – he doesn’t mind. A hand echoes over Stalker’s stomach, holding as it guides backwards a phantom pull. From there the sensations move down, pressing against Stalker’s nerves. He can feel the phantom hand press between his thighs, spreading them in a relaxed motion.

“Do you desire me, Shadow? And my claws?” A large digit dips.

Fingers press inside him as he lowers into a kneel, groaning in exhale. “Yes, I do,” he drawls. Motions spread him, press against his nerves, fingers, claws, stroking against his trembling clasper clit. When his hand withdraws the claws linger, dipping between the cerise lips and inside. Stalker leans back on his arms, hands balling into fists as he groans.

“Would this sate you, Shadow; my claws against your walls?”

Stalker’s legs tremble, staring down himself to an aching clasper clit, trying to catch the claws stroking inside. He can feel them – scooping, caressing, ends coaxing against his sensitive G. He feels them large, each thrust of the sentient’s claws pressing inside him. It coaxes groans, whimpers, mewls as they thrust, the hunter’s body trembling before he lies a hand against himself, spreading cerise for the sentient’s gaze. “Mmhnn,” slips as a peaking rumble, hips sway as his fingers hold against his clit. His index lies over his flesh, clit holding against it as his thumb roves over. “Aaah, fuck,” he whimpers, for the sentient alone.

“I can feel it, Shadow. The clenching in your groin, the tension in your gut.” The sensation of claws spread within Stalker’s nerves, widening to the brim of pleasurable thrusts. He wiggles down against the phantom claws, hand holding over his lips as the sensation repeats in earnest. There’s a whimper as his legs spread in their coils as he keeps upright. Despite his position, where a physical hand would be pressed by pelvis and floor, the claws continue. “You’re close, Shadow,” the sentient brushes at Stalker’s mind, faint claws curling at Stalker’s chest.

“Please,” Stalker gasps, rubbing down into the unmoving sensation inside him, palming against his arching clit. Again, the claws spread, pulsating thrusts against his soaking walls. Against his flesh, his fingers run saturated, rubbing at himself in need, in want to be brought to finish. “Hunhow,” he mewls.

The attributes of the sentient’s claws knead inside him, chitin shell smooth and gleaming obsidian slick. Spreading. Rubbing. Thrusting inside. The sounds of wet thrusts echo in Stalker’s mind, and he holds himself as all he can do is writhe against the sentient claws. His hand feels nothing within his walls, his own fingers digging inside him as the sentient’s thrusting increases, coaxing loud groans to ooze sporadic. His coiling legs force him onto his back, lying down as he tries to hold at the sentient’s finger assault. “Hunhow,” his voice creaks, arching into the empty penetration, sensation driving him against his peak.

His shadow’s pleas excites Hunhow, driving hum further to coax more from the hunter. “Do you want me to finish you, Shadow. To relieve of that hammering ache?”

Whimpers are the only reply, between the drawn-mush mewls and groans. Claws burrow as they thrust, kneading, coaxing outward Stalker’s trembling exhales. He reaches for the phantom hand, grasping at his own dark coating as the claws move inside. Thighs draw tight, rubbing as he’s drawn closer, voice barely dripping with pleas. “Fuck; Hunhow, please,” his voice reverbs through a groan. The sentient hums.

“Very well, Shadow,” the sentient draws against Stalker’s audio receptors, a hand echoing a hold at his shadow’s chest. “Relax.” Phantom restraints move over the hunter’s sensors, mocking a guiding of arms away from the thrusting claws.

Stalker complies with the sentient’s sensation suggestion, arms curling behind his head, fingers digging into his forearms as he writhes against slicken ghosting claws. The kneading continues, brushing at nerve bundles, flexing against pleasurable limits. Two spread inside him, a third phantom stroking against his erect clit. Saturated chitin brushes against the underside, teasing tender strokes as thrusts hammer deep. Stalker holds his arms against his head, staring down to his trembling legs and arching clit; sighs rushing as he’s brought to his peak. “Fuuuuck,” mewls, partly groans as he begins to buck into the empty penetration.

Hips rock around the pure sensation thrusts, clit struggling to grasp the phantom claw that strokes against its trembling underside. It grasps at empty chilly air, making it all the more sensitive as his thighs grind, holding against the sensation of obsidian claws. Gasps pulse through his exhales, holding against himself as the sentient’s claws carry him through orgasm waves. Hips buck, legs trembling, holding himself still as the sentient’s claws follows the motions. Stalker can feel the claws hold against him gently, grazing as he sinks against the phantom sensations.

As he comes down, a hand holds at a claw sensations, as the slick chitin drags between his lips. His hand, of course, grasps nothing, and Stalker wheezes sighs. A claw trails against his jaw, a guiding Stalker follows against his arm. “Good to see you are pleased, Shadow,” the sentient breathes against his thoughts, claws settling against his hips as legs lie against another limp. “You’re a mess, Shadow, an absolutely beautiful mess.” Within, a sensation mouth echoes a small smile.

Hunhow’s claws linger as Stalker recovers, collecting himself first against coiling arms, pushing himself back into sitting on saturated stone. When Stalker can’t find the strength to get up, the sentient supplies, senses lifting his shadow back onto his feet. As Stalker is regaining his senses, finding his feet, Hunhow can feel through the weave isolated tenno pests; alone, vulnerable – they’ll have to wait for their executions.

His shadow comes first.

The sentient surveys over Stalker’s senses, checking of all things – reassuring himself he surmises – that he’s not harmed his hunter. Within he can sense a tingling in lower biology, a surging in his shadow’s chest as he stands without the sentient’s energy. Hunhow concentrates on it, stares as his claws hang lax at his hunter’s senses. He can feel, watch as his shadow stares at his wielding shard, sitting fogged out of his thoughts.

Both in mutual silence.

The sentient can feel unseen nerve movement. “Rest, Shadow. The pests can wait for their reckoning.”

Stalker’s hand drifts against the sword’s chitin grip, an edge made of Hunhow’s own bones. “I know.”

“Then what, Shadow, are you thinking?”

“Thinking …” Stalker keeps their connection in a haze, thoughts isolated from the sentient. “Of that request of yours.” The sentient’s voice rumbles with a tinge of excitement, faints of his claws surfacing on the hunter’s waist.

“Rest, my shadow, for I still need more.” Stalker pulls the singing blade from abyssal stone, alight with sentient energy. “My reach may be vast, but my sapient body sits as stone. Once it becomes as flesh, then, you can enlighten me on this mortal writhing that drives you loud.” Obsidian claws trace at Stalker’s side as he moves. “Once I possess a body, then I will drive you loud.”

 

Hunhow finds himself more attentive to his shadow.

He finds his claws linger their faint touch against the hunter in the downtime, an unconscious reassurance to his ever-distant shadow of his presence. Energy surges brilliantly as he watches his shadow cleave tenno husks, gathering the remnants of his kind. Broken, shattered, mere fragments of their celestial bodies. And with them, absorption of matter for study and his resurging growth.

His cocoon begins to dilute.

Alone, as his shadow is on the hunt, the sentient spreads his newfound limbs. Hunhow’s obsidian claws glimmer in the low light made of sentient veins, pulsating as he urges energy into his new-found body – chitin a brilliant vermillion aglow with amethyst light. They flex as he rolls his thick neck, his elongated face a carryover of his star-bound body brought into ruin. Within him, as he gazes through to his sentient womb, Hunhow can see his sapient form – still snared in stone. Below what may be constituted as a waist roves with sentient veins, lengths that writhe in energy pulsations. Some he lifts from abyssal stone, risen frill-ending tentacles he contorts around low spreading hands.

He studies his grown form; bulky, large, four clawed hands curling down within his sights and grasping the fleshy tentacles. Behind him, through the gaze of his womb, are echoes of his once brilliant wings dripping with sentient blood. They’ve been torn off the chitin of his wide back, pain unfelt. There is so much more he needs to collect to have an independent body, for more than a torso up; but for his shadow’s pleasure? This will do.

And he reaches out.

As his shadow collects another fallen pest, his claws drift along Stalker’s sides, trailing up against breathing pecs. “It is done, my Shadow.” He can feel a head turn in his hunter’s nerves, a finger touching at the phantom backwards guidance. “Return to me, Shadow, and I can make you writhe.” He can feel Stalker reach across their connection, echoes reaching out to envision his awaiting body safe within the sentient womb. Hunhow can sense nerves alight as his hunter shifts over the notion of sentient flesh, feeling his shadow’s movements and flushing hesitation. Yet, he remains locked out of his shadow’s thoughts, only able to watch as his hunter collects another severed shell for processing.

Stalker’s fingers barely leave the sentient shard.

As his hunter returns to the hidden domain, the sentient sends his fragments to collect the broken tenno shell, freeing his shadow of the duty to deposit the broken volt. His hunter unleashes his thoughts, a numb flurry of fantasizing, letting the sentient know to be ready – as is he, despite his fainting hesitation. Hunhow’s claws trail across their connection as Stalker nears the sentient’s chamber womb, an area he had once adamantly avoided.

And now, here he was, as he strikes the sentient blade into abyssal stone, walking up to the sentient’s towering body made of malleable flesh and shimmering chitin. Four hands – six claws on each – greets him, two holding the sentient’s half body steady as the others trail upon skin. They guide motion suggestions, lifting Stalker’s arms gentler than the bulking limbs suggest. Hunhow’s large claws trawl down his spine, cup above his rear before they continue to drift down. “Well, Shadow, would this form suit your feeling need?” The sentient rumbles inside their connection, glowing tentacles made of his flesh roving beneath his secondary limbs.

Stalker holds at a risen hand, or a finger to be more precise, as the sentient’s hands are as large as his head. Within, Hunhow can feel a sensation grin, a noticeable coiling in his hunter’s gut he found logic within. Arousal.

“More than enough,” Stalker’s voice sings in reverbs, emotions Hunhow reads as pleased. To which the sentient rumbles. Large secondary hands caress over his thighs, fingers cupping against his rear. Stalker pushes back against them, pressing himself on them in suggestion.

Hunhow takes the suggestion, lifting his shadow as he leans back with his astral wings spread. He lies Stalker against his broad chest, hands cradling his hunter’s much smaller body. The sentient’s hands hold him close, primaries holding his hunter’s torso as his secondaries tend to Stalker’s lower extremities. Stalker stares down himself, hands feeling over the obsidian claws. “Now then, my shadow, my hunter, show me that boiling need.” The sentient purrs across their connection, feeling nerves curl and flex within his hunter.

Stalker arches against the claws around his torso, unleashing a once held sigh as his legs guide the sentient’s lower hands open. He feels them grasp at his open thighs, holding him still as his hand reaches over the dangerous claws to his loins. A faint gasp drips as he coaxes himself open for the sentient’s curiosity, already finding the covering seam barely split. Claws dance against his thighs, watching as glowing purple-blue tentacles tether around his knees to hold him gently still. “Take me, however you wish, Hunhow,” he sighs, reaching back over the sentient’s crested head.

“Leave your thoughts open, my hunter, and I will give you what you wish.” The sentient purrs, fingers crawling to cup at Stalker’s flesh. There’s a shudder from the smaller body, an arching against chilled chitin.

And Stalker, complies, feeding the sentient with wanton thoughts to be stuffed.

The sentient’s claws spread his lips.

Cold undersides make his hunter shudder, rolling into the physical claws he had once only felt as nervous sensation coax at frilled lips. Between his legs a tentacle rises, slick with sentient body fluids, and brush between his lips. It’s warm. And presses his frilled clasper clit up as it spreads lubrication over his lips and clenching exposed vulva. Upon Hunhow’s chest his shadow arches, sighing as the warm fluid spreads liberally against his flesh, drips oozing inside his cavity. A sentient claw presses up between his cerise lips, rubbing its bumpy underside across his vulva, side stroking a frill of his clasper clit.

Hunhow shifts his shadow, still holding Stalker spread with wrapping tentacles as a hand cups between dark legs and claws resting on cerise. Two digits spread his frilled lips again for a coaxing claw, rubbing the large digit over clenching vulva and arching clit. The individual tentacle returns, coating the claw in transparent fluid as Stalker watches the motions between his thighs. Obsidian gleams wet beside his clit, arching as it strokes, teases, and ultimately dips inside – drawing a gasping sigh from Stalker as he watches it thrusts. He wiggles within the confines, arms holding at the sentient’s torso-holding claws as he arches into the single-digit thrusts. “Oh, mmmm,” he moans, head pressing against the sentient’s as he watches, as he listens to the claw rub slick at his walls.

The thought of two crosses Stalker’s mind; and Hunhow gladly supplies.

He releases his hold on spreading the cerise lips for the moment, one holding still as another claw coats itself in merging slick. The thrusting claw draws itself back, dragging carefully against Stalker’s walls before the second joins. Blunt tips knead against cerise flesh before they stroke inside, wiggling a tease that makes Stalker roll, groaning as the slick chitin presses inside him.

Claws knead inside him as the tentacle returns to Stalker’s need, pressing at the underside of a clit twitching with each vulva clench. He sighs as the warmth tends to his clit, groaning as cold claws thrust against his walls. The clasper clit presses into the tentacle’s opening slit, drawing a rumbling sigh from the sentient at his back. “How does it feel, Shadow,” Hunhow purrs against his neck, nudging his immense head against his small shadow’s chin. “My claws, physical. Drawing you loud.”

“I adore it,” Stalker sighs, whining as he presses down into the dual sensations. “Give me more; I want it.” His hands cup at the sentient’s crest, hands roving over Hunhow’s slim head as he holds the sentient close. Hunhow purrs at his hunter’s neck, drawing claws to cup Stalker’s pecs.

“In all this wretched system, none is more beautiful than you, Shadow.”

Claws knead within Stalker as the frilled tentacle oozes over his clit, drawing gasp before it tweaks against the erect grasping flesh. As it strokes against him Stalker is drawn loud, pressing against the chitin coat of the obsidian claws. Against them, around them, Stalker rolls, brought to sighing gasps. His legs coil within the gentle binds as claws draw him to ache for more; something larger.

Like the tentacle dripping at his clit.

The sentient feels his shadow’s desire, pressing the tentacle against the grasping clit in full. “You desire this, Shadow? My writhing flesh inside your walls,” Hunhow rumbles, his claws spreading down inside Stalker’s body. They hold him open, clit and vulva twitching as the sentient sends him the view from the gleaming shard stuck in stone. Stalker shuffles as he perceives himself in the sentient’s grasp, watching from below as claws sink one by one into his body. Dips that drag up against his walls, coaxing shaking groans that makes him writhe for more.

“Hunhow,” Stalker groans, eyeing the oozing tentacle as the claws slip from his flesh. Below he can see the gleaming obsidian hold him open, muscles clenching as he watches from the sentient’s omnipresent sight. The claws fiddle at his flesh, saturated cold chitin roving as the warm tentacle presses down against cerise. “Nnnnh, yes.” He arches, “I want to feel you inside me, not just with those tempting claws.”

Claws press his flesh together before they spread again, stroking as the oozing tentacle worms against his thigh. The sentient rumbles against their connection, breathing resonance purrs against his shadow’s throat. “With it, Shadow, I will drive you loud; writhing around my flesh.” The frilled end of he tentacle presses with emphasis, stroking wet between the sentient’s claws. It roves down against the cerise, stroking over the clasper clit dripping lubrication. It oozes across his clenching vulva, Stalker sighs as the warm viscous fluid drips inside him, wiggling in the sentient’s gentle confines. He grasps at the sentient’s crest, stroking it as Hunhow preps him for penetration.

He arches against it as the frilled ends brush against his vulva, a hand grasping at sentient claw. It merely teases its warm mess, stroking up against his erect clit. “I want it,” Stalker groans, his legs guided to be held wide. From the sentient’s blade he can see it press against him, the claws holding him open for the teasing frills dripping against his hole. His head presses back on the sentient’s thick neck, exhaling as it presses against his spread flesh.

The frilled end easily slides itself in, as it lies saturated with slick fluids. The mass teases a gentle pump, bringing Stalker to gasp at the girth. As Hunhow had said, Stalker writhes, squirming as the size presses within his walls. Testing pumps slowly worm more inside the hunter, feeling the mass scoot further inside drives him louder, whimpering against the sentient’s crown. Hunhow can feel his hunter’s pleasure, but also his limiting biology as he squeezes the tentacle inside. He reduces its inner consistency a bit, just enough to give the tentacle more wiggle room – more space for his shadow to squeeze around his penetration.

“Aah, Hunhow,” his shadow wheezes, rocking around the slow thrusting blue and purple tentacle. His head lies back, watching through the sentient’s vision of the tentacle working itself inside his gut. A soft bulge presses at his stomach, motions making him whimper as it pumps against his walls. The claws remove themselves from his flesh, holding against his thighs as the tentacle takes control. “Mhnn, fuck,” he whines, grasping for something to hold.

Hunhow holds his hunter still as the tentacle pumps against Stalker’s walls, listening, cherishing the noise he drives from his writhing hunter. His primary claws hold Stalker against his chest, fingers grazing and trailing as his secondary limbs hold the smaller body open for the glowing tentacle. Against his face his shadow whimpers, whines, mewls loud, bucking his hips against the malleable penetration slick against his walls. Noise of wet flesh contact fills the air, along with Stalker’s peaking noises as Hunhow can feel the rising climax boil within.

The clasper clit struggles to hold at the slick tentacle, each pump driving exhales from the hunter. Stalker’s mind goes foggy, body falling into motions as he lets the sentient take him over, aside from a yearning of a filling finish. Hunhow follows through his shadow’s drawn desire, pressing slick tentacle against tentative G and the grasping clit.

“Finish for me, Shadow,” the sentient purrs, claws caressing over the hunter’s pecs. “And I’ll make sure you’re full of my seed.”

“Hunhow,” the hunter quivers, his head lying lull, enjoying the sentient’s soft flesh within his walls. He grasps the sentient’s crest, pawing over the chitin skin as his clit is drawn against the wet stroking sentient flesh. “Oh, Hunhow,” he mewls, holding himself close as he bucks against the tentacle penetration as he’s brought to orgasm.

As his movements are drawn erratic, the sentient’s pumps slow into deep hammering, frilled end pushing against the hunter’s backwall before luminescent viscous spunk fills the spaces between their flesh. Stalker gasps as it fills him, arching down against the over spilling tentacle. Against his thigh, as the sentient loosens his tentacle grip, he can feel the fluid drip over his skin, down between his curling thighs as the tentacle remains.

It sits still as he bucks, legs curling in the sentient’s palms. From the sentient’s shard Stalker can see the glow ooze between his legs, down the tentacle, between the sentient’s obsidian claws. He rocks against them, tentacle and palm, as he comes down from his peak, leaning against the sentient’s chest. “May I stay, for a little bit longer,” he whispers, senses still tingling from the full body sensations.

“Certainly, my shadow,” Hunhow coos, “as long as you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> -+- Kudos, comments and sharing are encouraged! -+-  
> Created as a birthday gift for my boyfriend! One of his OTPs; this is partly derived from his art located here: http://maunderfiend.tumblr.com/post/162065723163/


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